


You Can't Handle The Truth

by Skyforged (Travelilah)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Assets & Handlers, Death, F/M, Feelings, Gun Violence, Mental Instability, Romance, Torture, Violence, WinterShock - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-10-21 13:48:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17643998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Travelilah/pseuds/Skyforged
Summary: She was known as Darcy Nicole Lewis - lover of pasta, cheese and cheesy 90's cartoons - to most.To her family, she was Daria Nikolaevna Lebedev (Yeah, try saying that five times fast).Raised to kill without question, to spy without remorse and to serve without question, Darcy's spent her entire life training to do anything necessary for Mother Russia.On her eighteenth birthday, her hard work finally paid off, as her parents deemed her fit for duty, and worthy of carrying on the family legacy. She was assigned to an organisation that would shape the rest of her life and eventually the world: HYDRA.That was fine. She just had an issue with the part where she got tasked with a deadly and near impossible mission: keeping the 'Fist of Hydra' under control at any cost, even if she died trying.





	1. Once upon a drunken time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta: Chocolategate  
> Do have to dedicate this now to the amazing source of support, help, second pair of eyes, pretty pictures of Bucky and cheerleading: Lavachick85  
> The dialogue in italics is meant to signify another language been spoken - Russian in this case.  
> Darcy goes by a few names. Darcy, as we know, and then Daria, as her Russian name. Her Russian nickname is Darya :)  
> Russian names get diminutive forms, so there will be a few more coming for other characters on ;)

 [](https://imgur.com/wB9WaYO)

 

* * *

**I do not own Marvel or any of the characters I am writing about. Nor do I own any of the above images.**

  _[Once upon a drunken time...]_

There was a family cursed to mix their love of vodka with decision-making. Most of the time it resulted in terrible life choices, and in some of the more extreme cases, it led to death, not that anyone bothered to keep track anymore.

Darcy was descended from that long line of idiots and liked to blame her incessant bad luck and weakness for spirits on them.

Anyway, the whole shit show starring one: Darcy Lewis, started off with her parents; Katerina and Nikolai.

They’d met at a KGB training camp, and according to them, it was love at first shooting. Together, they quickly rose through the ranks. Receiving promotion after promotion, becoming the elite of the elite.

Her mother was assigned the codename of Firebird. Her father was Koschei; named for the immortal man, as Nikolai was some kind of like a Russian MacGyver, always finding a way out of impossible situations.

They were an unbeatable, fearsome duo and like any typical fairytale, they received the blessing from their Fairy-Comrade-Mother to get married.

It was a modest ceremony, with a resounding theme of Communism, but the happy couple were stupid-in-love and not even an assassination attempt on the head of the KGB could ruin their special day.

After they got hitched, it didn’t escape the notice of their superiors that their mission success rate went through the roof. They accredited it to solid team dynamics and a whole bunch of other psycho-babble reasoning. Soon an idea was formed by the superiors, inspired by Nikolai and Katerina themselves.

It was to be a long-term infiltration and espionage mission. Nikolai and Katerina were selected to carry it out. As it was noted several times over in their files: their dedication to the motherland knew no bounds.

There was no doubt in either of them as they accepted their mission. For Nikolai and Katerina knew in their hearts they were doing the right thing for them, but more importantly, their future.

Without any further ado, they packed up their lives and moved to the United States.

As soon as they stepped off the plane, they were no longer Nikolai or Katerina Lebedev. They became Nick and Kate Lewis.  
  
It only took them a few months to set themselves up and secure decent jobs with access to US Government information.

After a year, Nick was working for the White House as part of the security team, feeding information straight back to the KGB. Katerina found herself a job at the Pentagon, becoming the personal assistant to one of the high ranking commanders.  
  
That was only the beginning of their mission. As they knew this mission was for the long haul, there was a chance that Nikolai or Katerina would never see their homeland again.  
  
But they made the sacrifice knowing it was worth it, and they went forward with the second part of the mission: making babies. Lots and lots of babies. The kind that was US citizens by birth, but raised as loyal soldiers for KGB.  
  
Enter Darcy at stage right.  
  
Technically, she wasn’t even part of the mission. She’d been kid number five, unplanned and conceived naturally, unlike her four older brothers who were created via IVF on her mother’s trips back to Russia.  
  
Daria Nikolaevna Lebedev was her real name. It the one her mother used shouted out whenever she was in trouble and whispered into her ear as she got tucked into bed. At all other times, she was Darcy Nicole Lewis.  
  
Having four older brothers: Peter, Eric, Thomas and Lucas, Darcy’s childhood was pretty rough. She grew up with monster trucks, wrestling and learning how to cook Barbie dolls heads in the microwave. Not to mention the prank wars, or the shouting and the screaming. But hell hath no fury like a Lewis brother when they found out their little sister was being bullied. There were some perks to being the youngest it turned out.

It was the other part of her childhood that was fucked up beyond imagining. You see, having Russian spies as parents set the bar pretty high, but it was another thing entirely to be expected to follow in their footsteps.

As soon as Darcy turned five, she kissed playtime goodbye and started her training. Her teddy-bear was swapped for Kevlar and bullets. Family Board Game nights were a competition to see who could stay hidden from their father for the longest. Family time was stripping down weapons together until they could do it with their eyes closed.

She was raised to speak English, Russian, Ukrainian, French and Spanish. To switch between the languages seamlessly, with no gap or hesitation. Every day after school she was drilled in martial arts and weapon handling.

Darcy needed to defend herself, her family's honour and be the perfect weapon for her homeland, a place that she'd never seen or been to, but that is who she had to be loyal to. And she never questioned it.  
  
By the time she was twelve, she could make an explosive out of her toys. At thirteen, her family discovered her aptitude with technology and she became the family hacker and techspert. Mining data, cracking hard-drives and pillaging secrets from Government digital storage, all in the name of making her parents proud.  
  
At school, she was a drifter. Friendly enough to have invites to parties and a few friends, but she never brought anyone home to meet her family. Through the rumour mill she found out that people were calling her "sweet but a psycho" she'd laughed and wished that her grade only knew half the truth.  
  
She was promoted to Mission Operative at fifteen, and behind the screen, she helped her father infiltrate the French Embassy and steal a classified document that indicated they were planning to extradite a Russian General. Because of her that never came to pass. That night, she was the toast of dinner, not for her school report card with straight A's, but for the fact she helped an internationally wanted criminal to escape.  
  
Her brothers were a few years older than her, and one by one they moved out and on to college, working hard to get qualifications that could land them a foot in the door for a high-ranking Government Job. All of them except Tom.  
  
Tom was the black sheep and brought shame to the family when he rebelled. He refused to go on missions, to live up to his heritage. For so many nights Darcy heard him arguing with her parents, refusing to do the training, and so they would lock in the basement until morning with no dinner, just to remind him that he was their soldier, their weapon, and they had the final say.  
  
She used to sneak him dinner when her parents went to bed. She was also the one to help him escape.  
  
Her parents had reached the end of their patience and were preparing to send Tom back to Russia, for direct training from the KGB to correct his behaviour. He'd been sedated and was packed up, ready to be shipped out at dawn.  
  
Darcy knew that if her brother was sent home he would be broken, so she offered to go down and check on him for her parents. Thinking her the ever-good girl, they had easily agreed.  
  
Using smelling salts, she woke her brother up and shoved her life savings of two hundred dollars at him and told him to run.  
  
Once he was out the door, she'd picked up a wrench from the toolbox and with a shaky hand threw it up in the air and angled herself beneath it. She held her breath as she waited for it to strike, and then she saw black.  
  
Darcy's parents found her and cursed out her brother. For abandoning his family, but moreso for not being loyal to Russia. His name became taboo, and she never found out what happened to him. If he was hunted down or if he was still out there living his life.  
  
In all that, she never thought to question what her parents did, what she was expected to do.  
  
Darcy was steadfastly loyal and blind in her devotion to the mission. After all, her whole life was spent training, in preparation to serve, to fulfil and carry out any orders she was given.  
  
On her eighteenth birthday, she was finally rewarded for her efforts, as her parents deemed her fit for duty, and ready to carry on the family legacy.  
  
With that, she was introduced to the organisation that would shape the rest of her life and eventually the world: HYDRA.


	2. There was a young girl, whose smile was as radiant as the sun and…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  Thank you to lavachick85 for being an amazing sounding board and friend. Thank you to Bahowle for being the right amout of mean.   
> Beta'd by Chocolategate <3

   _[There was a young girl, whose smile was as radiant as the sun and…]_

It was her eighteenth birthday. They’d held a grand party and invited all the neighbours and the limited number of friends she had. The party had lasted for hours, going into the wee hours of the morning and people were only just starting to leave because there was no food or drink left.

Darcy could thank her brothers for that, whom had all come home for the occasion. Her father, too, had drank enough vodka to put a dent in his usual surly expression.

In fact, he’d cracked a rare full smile as he handed Darcy her gift: a dark-wooden box. It was decorated with intricate carvings of characters from Russian folklore. She could recognise the flaming wings of the Firebird and the chicken feet of Baba Yaga’s house.

She risked a glance at her father and with his nod of approval she cracked the lid open and her eyes watered. Nestled upon worn black velvet rested a dainty silver lunula pendant attached to a fine silver chain.  It wasn’t a bright silver, like the box it looked worn and showed its age. She placed the box carefully to the side before she pounced at her father, squishing him into a giant hug.

As the noise of the party resumed around them, Papa Lewis had pulled her tighter and whispered, “ _I’m proud of you, Darya_ ,” into her ear before pulling away and declaring a toast for his youngest and best-looking child.

Darcy had stood there, stunned. Blinking and wondering if she’d just heard her father right. Usually a reserved man, she could count on one hand the number of times that her father had said that.

“Darya, not a baby anymore!” Erik shouted into her ear, pulling her out of her reverie and back to the party.

She continued to soak up the laughter and joy of the atmosphere until it was just her family left. With the last guest gone, her father pulled out the good vodka and her family took that as the sign to relax. They could be themselves and not have to worry about keeping up the facade of normalcy.

Conversation flowed and Darcy remembered that night fondly as one of the best in life. Whenever someone’s accent slipped, they would be teased mercilessly and made to take a shot.

Peter was in the middle of telling a story about his time in college when the phone rang.

Its bell tone crackled in Darcy’s ears and made the room go quiet as it continued to ring.

Darcy’s father ambled over and picked up the receiver with a cool poise, answering with a quiet, “Lebedev.”

The room was silent as her father spoke, his words quiet but hard. It was the voice he used whenever he was working and it made the hair on the back of Darcy’s neck rise.

For whatever reason, her father put the phone on loudspeaker so the whole room could hear. It was HYDRA calling, an associate of the KGB, to request that one of her brothers be sent over to fill in a vacancy they had.

Apparently, the name Lebedev still carried a lot of weight back in the motherland, and her brothers had come with the highest recommendation from the KGB.

Darcy went back to sipping on her vodka soda, unbothered by the background conversation. She figured that if she was meant to be privy to any information then her father would brief her about her support role later. For now, she planned to enjoy the buzz she had going and not let disappointment eat at her. She knew that she would not be called upon for assignment, never had been, so she didn’t expect now to be any different.

She fiddled with the straw of her drink and cast an eye over her brothers who sat with their backs ramrod straight, waiting to hear their name called. She idly wondered which one would be chosen. Her dark blue gaze landed on Erik, with his buzz cut dark hair, large frame and brown eyes, he was capable of anything from stealth to seduction.

Catching his dark eyes, she gave him a sad smile over the edge of her glass. He returned it with his own grim twitch of the lips, before turning his gaze back to their father.

Papa Lewis would be quiet for long drawn out moments, the pauses weighing down on her ears, but it was a relief to hear him fire off rapid Russian down the phone once more.

Her father's piercing blue eyes, a near match for her own, roamed over her brothers before his gaze landed softly on her. He gave her a soft smile which she did not return. She knew it was just a consolation prize for not being picked. It would be Erik or Pyotr.

Grumbling under her breath about favouritism, Darcy moved the straw over and knocked back a mouthful of alcohol straight from the cup. Just as her father suggested, “ _I think that Daria, my daughter, would be perfect for this mission._ ”

Darcy choked. Half the liquid going up her nose and the rest sprayed out her mouth.

“ _Darya!_ ” Erik scowled, some of the vodka having landed on his face.

Darcy was too occupied with trying to get the damned booze out of her to lungs to take much notice. Her throat and nostrils were burning and her eyes watered as she coughed. Wiping a hand across her face to clean herself up, she openly gaped at her father who was now trying to convince the caller why his daughter was the best candidate.

Her brothers were in shock too, their eyes wide as their eyes bounced like ping pong balls, from their father to Darcy, then back to their father. Darcy glanced over at her mother who was beaming at her, dark eyes glistening with tears and smile wide showing off bright white teeth. The smile soon became a frown as her father’s voice grew louder.

Getting up, her mother strode over to the phone, took it off the speaker and argued on Darcy’s behalf. Her father stood back, crossed his arms and smirked, and her brothers chuckled, while Darcy blinked. Her mother had the moniker ‘Firebird’ for another reason; her temper was legendary.

Darcy slumped back in her seat, closing her eyes and trying her best to remain calm when she felt like her skin was buzzing, energy static beneath her skin. It helped to picture the person who her mother was now chewing out. It wasn’t long before her mother switched over to singing her praises, elaborating on her strengths and why it would be the perfect opportunity to get fresh blood into the organisation.

And just like that, Darcy was going to Russia.

She went from celebrating her eighteenth right over to freaking the fuck out. She was going to Russia, **alone**. She’d always dreamed of going to the Motherland, sure, but like, on a family trip, or whenever Dedushka finally kicked the bucket. Not on an actual mission, but it was too late to back out now. Not after her parents had stuck their necks out to get her this gig. They’d both known she was just looking for a chance to prove herself, to be her own person, to show she was more than just the youngest Lebedev.

Packing up her life wasn’t as difficult as she’d thought it would be, either. All of her clothes fit into a suitcase, her laptop in her carry on and her personal weapons stashed in between. It’d been easy to lie to her friends, to say she was spending a year abroad in a language exchange. They’d all bought it and didn’t question when she’d return, only if she’d be able to send them gifts and trinkets.

The real problem lay with her mother fretting over TSA finding a knife in her luggage. She’d soothed her mother by challenging her to see if she could find anything and after five minutes, her mother still wasn’t able to turn up anything and Darcy could finish packing.

The drive to the airport was silent, her brothers having elected to stay home, so it was just Darcy and her parents in the car. They’d walked her right up to the departure lounge after they’d checked her suitcase in.

Standing there in front of the International Departures, she cracked.

Tears welled up in her eyes, her lower lip quivered and the emotions burst forward. Her mother rushed forward and swept her up in her arms in a crushing hug. As she stroked Darcy's hair she whispered, “ _Shh, my love, you will be fine. You’ve trained for this your whole life, you will be fine. You will prove to them you are a strong woman, that you are worthy of Hydra, of being our daughter.”_

Her hiccuping sobs soon dwindled down into sniffles and her mother let go, stepping back so that her father could say goodbye. Darcy was surprised when her Papa pulled her into another hug. Two in two days? She was beginning to think the gun polish was finally going to his head.

She put her arms around his neck and held on tight, taking the chance to smell home, comfort and safety before she went into the world alone. Leather and the gun polish filled her lungs and she promised herself to never forget.

Her Papa pulled back and cupped her face in his hands and he pressed a silent kiss to her forehead. “ _Don’t let me down, little mouse_ ,” he murmured before taking a few steps back and letting his hands fall away.

Darcy stood staring at her father as he went back to pull her mother into his side. Her Papa hadn’t called her _that_ since Tomas had run away. Shaking herself out of it, she bent over to pick up her backpack and gave her parents one last wave goodbye, hoping it wasn’t the last time she’d ever see them again.

On the plane ride over, she was a mix of excited, nauseous and anxious. It was her first time being so far away from home, her first time being in Russia as well. She’d grown up on stories of the country, hearing about the wonder of the snow, but also the comradery of the people.

As soon as she’d landed and caught her connecting flight to get to the region of the HYDRA base, that excitement changed into full-fledged dismay. Her father had pulled a lot of strings and done a lot of sweet-talking to get her this opportunity. She didn’t want to let him down or dishonour the family name.

By the time the plane touched down and she was out the front of the small regional airport, Darcy was close to gnawing off her lip. She was waiting for her pick up to arrive and to be escorted to the HYDRA base of operations.

She’d been standing in front of the drab grey brick building for about fifteen minutes, and with each second that went by, her stomach worked itself into a larger and tighter knot. Steel cables were wrapped around her middle and she was bordering on hyperventilating. Not to mention, the skin around her nails had been picked raw on the plane ride over.

At some point, she’d switched to fiddling with the necklace she’d gotten for her birthday. As she rolled the silver crescent moon over her fingertips, she hoped that its horseshoe shape would bring her luck. It also brought her comfort to have this piece of home with her. She hoped it'd be enough to keep her connected to her family.

Darcy knew that these emotions were considered a weakness here. But she could not silence the ringing alarm of anxiety in her mind, no matter how much she hit the mental snooze button. There was so much riding on how she performed in this assignment, she didn’t want to imagine what would happen if she were to fail.

Yet, she could not help but ask herself 'what if'? What if she failed?

She groaned and scrubbed a gloved hand over her face. She needed to get a grip before anybody saw her acting like this.  

To calm herself down, Darcy removed her hand from her glove and let the icy air nip at the tips of her fingers. The cold brought pain, and in that sensation there was clarity.

Words her mother whispered to her many years ago surfaced in her mind, ‘ _Breathe in and out, Darya. Calm. Focus. Expel the weakness and keep the strength.’_

She breathed in through her nose, taking in the air until her lungs were at capacity. She focused on the cold, how it burned her lungs and dried out her throat.

In and out.

She felt her pulse slowing, and her fingers growing numb, but she kept going. She needed to centre herself.

In and out. She had to–

“Lebedev?”

Darcy snapped her eyes open at the raspy male voice. She spotted a tall man wrapped up in a dark brown coat with black fur lining the hood. The fur seemed to extend to the lower half of his face.

She remained in place when she called back, “ _Da?”_

There was a short moment of silence in which she could feel the man’s eyes boring into her. She heard a soft snort and saw him shaking his head before he replied, “Come with me,” in heavily accented English.

He turned his back to her and walked away from her, heading around the building. Seeing little other choice than to freeze to death, Darcy picked up her bags and followed the man, using his footprints to stand in as she followed to save herself the effort of having to wade through the snow herself.

They soon reached a large black jeep that had seen better days. It was a beast, and a gas guzzler, but Darcy didn’t care as long as it had heating. She hung back as the man wrenched open the door on the driver’s side and started the engine, revving it loudly.

Someone flicked blinding headlights on, prompting her to shield her eyes. There was a loud creak which sounded like another door being opened. Hand still in front of her face, she made her way over to the car.

She was stopped, by a hand on her shoulder. “What the–”

Another hand came up, feeling her sides, and her legs. She realized quickly that she was been patted down for weapons and bugs, any surveillance devices. She held her hands up and let them work over her. The hands eventually left, and she spun around to confront whoever had started to man-handle her.

Her mouth hung open in shock as she spotted another man, that she’d somehow missed, now going through her luggage, throwing clothes into the snow as they searched it for any concealments. She knew she was meant to cooperate, but she drew the line at her bra being thrown around.

Marching over, she snapped the garment out of the man’s hand and snarled, “There’s nothing in there!”

All she got was a grunt, as he stalked off to the Jeep, climbing in, leaving her alone to clean up the mess. Sighing, she bent over to gather her things, trying to balance her backpack as she did. With everything back in her case, she made her way over to the Jeep again.

She spotted chains on the tyres and breathed a silent sigh of relief. At least it was snow worthy. Spotting the door that had been cracked open, she pulled it the rest of the way open and hauled herself in, followed by her bags.

Tossing her things to the floor, she pulled the door shut and took the chance to look around the cabin. She now studied the new men. They were like the man that collected her; all sporting thick beards that hid their face, revealing only dark eyes that scrutinised her.

“ _Hello_ ,” she greeted, forcing a weak smile across her chapped and split lips. It was not returned, so she dropped it and went back to arranging her bags. She found the one that had her phone and pulled it out so she could flick a quick text to her parents to let them know that she’d been picked up and was en route to the base.

As she tapped out the message, she noticed all three men sharing a look of disbelief. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man next to her leaning over to check what she was writing. Pulling it to her chest, she snapped, “ _Da”_

The man next to her pointed to her phone. “Who you messages?”

She frowned. “My parents.”

All three men burst out into laughter, deep and booming, which shook the car. “ _They have sent us a mouse,_ ” the man in front hooted, slapping the steering wheel.

Darcy felt her cheeks heat, along with her ears and neck. Humiliated beyond belief, she tucked the phone back into her bag, a little rougher than necessary, and huffed as she sat back in her seat.

The laughter went on for a few more seconds, before the car moved, the creaky release of the hand brake hitting her ears and making her grind her teeth at the high-pitched sound of metal on metal. The tyres spun for a moment, and she worried that they might be stuck, but with a giant lurch, the jeep went forward.

Still reeling with embarrassment, Darcy couldn’t muster up the courage to ask if the heating was on. Instead, she rubbed her hands together, as she tried to get the blood circulating and stop herself from getting frostbite, which was the last thing she wanted. Goodbye, manicures and pedicures she thought as she shuffled her feet.

Noticing her movement, the man in front waved his hand to catch her attention.

“First times in Russia?”

“ _Da_ ,” she answered, keeping the answer short on purpose. Less ammo for them to mock her with.

She’d been around men like this before, big and tough, and judgy as fuck. Always looking down on women and dismissing what they were capable of. She hated it, but she expected it. Her mother had taken her aside before she’d left and told her to be on her guard. To make sure she kept up with taking the Pill and to not rise to the baiting; to roll with the punches and to not let them know she was affected.

But it was so hard when assholes said things like, “ _Look at the little mouse shiver. She may be Russian by blood, but she is not a true Russian if she cannot handle a little cold.”_

She bit her tongue and barely held back the “Fuck you” that threatened to slip out, as she had her reputation, and her parent’s reputation to think of here.

The men didn’t seem to realise she understood Russian as well as English, So she ignored the cackle of the  _mudak_ and curled into herself the best she could in her seat. Her legs were up under her sweater as far as they would go, stretching the material, but she didn’t care.

She pulled her beanie down and let her head lean against the grimy window and prayed that she’d drift off quickly.

She wasn’t that lucky. The quiet chatter of the men kept her awake and enraged. She knew their names now: Ivan, Andrei and Filip, and each one of them was a sexist piece of shit and they had the combined brain power of a peanut.

Darcy was ready to pull her hair out by the time they were halfway to the base. She was sick to death of listening to the men talk about the weather and their favourite kind of gun, along with the steady whispers and jabs of how inferior she was and how she was going to fail. The running bet was that she wouldn’t last any longer than three weeks, according to Ivan. Filip bet she wouldn’t last the night.  

Darcy's temper flared in the way she'd seen in her mother a million times. She slipped a hand into her shoe and before anyone realised what had happened, she had moved.

“ _And I bet I could gut you before you say another word_ ,” she murmured in Russian, her voice promising violence as she pressed the tip of her favourite knife against the throat of the peanut seated in front of her.

“ _What the fuck are you doing, you crazy bitch?_ ” cried Ivan, or maybe Filip, she didn’t care. All eyes were on her, and she put on her most innocent smile, and with a sly wink, she shifted again.  

The knife disappeared and she reverted to sitting in her seat, looking poised. The men were in a panic, eyes darting around wildly trying to find her blade.

 _“Where is the knife?_ ” the man next to her snarled, his hand coming closer intending to grab her. She realised that this one was Filip, the fuck that had bet she wouldn’t last the night.

Her movement was a blur and in a blink, she had her knife pressed up against Filip's cheek. “ _Right here_.”

She grinned, and with a flick of her hand, had the blade sailing through the air. She caught it with her other hand and slipped it back into her shoe. All without breaking eye contact.

The rest of the journey was made in blissful silence.

It had grown dark as they’d travelled. The sun was long gone and the moon had risen in the sky, it’s light eerie, but still casting a bright glow on the land that allowed Darcy to take in details of surroundings through the frosted covered window of the Jeep.

From what she could tell, they were in a forest, judging from the towering but barren trees that surrounded them. The road they were on zigged and zagged through it, the many sharp turns making her stomach lurch. Peering up, she frowned as the dark and skeleton like-branches lent to the already creepy landscape.

The Jeep drove on until the trees disappeared, replaced by a rocky outcropping dusted in snow before it rolled to a stop in front of a tall concrete fence that went on as far as she could see. It was topped with barbed wire and spotlights, and random turrets that she was sure hosted a surplus of weapons. There were little blobs she could make out, pacing in front of the spotlights; armed guards she later realised. If she concentrated she could hear the barking of dogs blended in with the angry howl of the wind that had picked up.

Shuffling over, she gazed through the windscreen to look at the gate and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep her gasp at bay. A faded red skull was splayed across the gate, tentacles spilling out from the jaw.

Well, at least she knew they were in the right place. The symbol of Hydra was a harrowing sight and made her skin crawl as she imagined what lay beyond.

She leaned back as the gate cracked open and a troop of figures emerged, dressed in heavy coats, they made their way toward the vehicle.  After the guards made quick work of inspecting it which involved men sweeping over it and shining a torch in her face through the window, they were permitted inside the complex with a loud beep and blaring of sirens.

Once the car stopped, Darcy had the door open and her bags out before the peanut gallery offered any more commentary. She’d felt grim satisfaction as she got to slam the car door into their surprised faces. Her glee only went so far, as the bitterly cold wind blew right through her.

Snow whipped around and stuck to her hair and she tried to snuggle deeper into her jacket, wishing she could curl into herself for some warmth. She’d long given up trying to hold back the shivering and instead focused on keeping her skin exposed to the elements as little as possible.

She glanced around, looking for some sign of where she should go. The trio of peanuts had taken off for the gate and appeared to be laughing around with some of their comrades, leaving her to stand there in the middle of snow and ice.

Squinting her eyes, she could make out there were several buildings around that made up the base, but she had no idea where to begin. She didn’t have her glasses on so trying to read anything that far away was out of the question.

It relieved her to see a man exiting a large two-story building and heading for her. Unlike the others she’d encountered, this guard didn’t have a beard and but he had a scar running across his left cheek.

Once he was a few feet away, he barked, “ _Daria_ _Lebedev_?”

Darcy nodded, wary of the fatigues he wore and lack of jacket. How was this man surviving the cold? She didn’t get to ask as he marched right up to her and reached down to snatch up her bags.

“Hey!” she squawked in protest but was silenced by a sharp look.

Backing away, she made a show of putting her hands in her pocket, but kept an eagle eye on him and how he handled her bags. Years of living with paranoid spies had trained her to not let anybody but herself touch her luggage.

“You follow,” the man rumbled in accented English before he took off, leaving Darcy to follow like a lost duckling.

They went back to the building he’d come from, pushing through the doors, she couldn’t help but let out an inappropriate moan of relief as she felt the beautiful heat surrounding her. Without thinking, she shed the layers. She was halfway through pulling off her first layer of sweaters when she froze at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind her.

Spinning around, the sweater partially covering her face, she came face to face with another man in uniform. No beard, but he was handsome if you went for the stick up their ass type. Darcy let her sweater fall back down, and she fell back into a soldier's stance, arms behind her back, legs spread, head held high and eyes ahead. He was a commanding officer and most likely going to be her superior here.

He looked her up and down, studying her and she took the chance to do the same. She could see his name was Karpov. Once he finished his perusal, he dipped his chin to her in acknowledgement. “Daria. Welcome.”

It surprised her to hear the English, but per her parents’ teachings, she responded in Russian. _“Thank you for having me here. Hail Hydra._ ” She thrust both hands up above her head as the salute demanded.

Looking straight ahead, she almost missed the small smile of approval. She preened on the inside; being off to a good start was what her parents would want. After holding her arms up for a little while longer she let them fall back to her side.

“ _Ready to accept the assignment at your command, Sir_ ,” she said, keeping her gaze ahead.

Karpov sniffed but nodded. “Sasha will show you to your assignment and your quarters,” he replied, again in English, which made her worry.

Without another word, he turned about and disappeared through another door, leaving her with the scarred dude and her bags. Looking over to Sasha for a sign, he once again marched up and grabbed her bags and led her down a long hall.

They walked to what felt like the end of the building until they came to a heavy steel door. Putting her bag down, he pulled at a panel, revealing a rusted and well-used keypad. Punching in a sequence of numbers in quick succession, Darcy could only make out the beginning of the combo: _9983._  The rest was lost in a flurry of movement.

A loud beep confirmed the code had been accepted and with a clank, the steel door swung open, revealing concrete stairs that looked damp and freezing. Not waiting for her, Sasha charged ahead, taking the stairs nearly two at a time, making it hard for Darcy to keep up.

She was proud that after seven flights, she wasn’t out of breath. There were still more stairs that went further down but this was their stop as Sasha once again pulled down a panel and punched in more numbers.

Another beep and they were through the door and being led into another room that smelt of mould and damp. The room itself was narrow and long, and she felt herself going on alert as she spotted the tanks that lined the sides of the room.

This place felt dark and dangerous, and more than once she had to quell the nightmarish thought of ending up as an experiment suspended limply in one of the tanks. She’d heard enough stories about the punishment KGB doled out to their operatives from her parents.

Following her guide, she came to the end of the narrow room and was met by the largest tank of all. It was cylindrical and went to the ceiling, made of a metal that had likely been silver once but was now blackened with tarnish and wear.

There was a door in the middle, a huge turn wheel in the centre, and a small round window above it. The window was cracked at the bottom but otherwise frosted over, preventing her from looking into the tank.

Raising a hand to the glass, Sasha wiped off a thick layer of condensation and ice crystals. He peered into the tank and smirked before he gestured for Darcy to have a look for herself.

Stepping up to the tank, she braced herself against the wheel and raised herself up on her tiptoes to have a peek into the tank.

She gasped.

On the other side of the glass was a man. Tinted blue, he looked like he was sleeping. Her attention strayed over to his left arm, which she realised was made of metal. Spotting the dog tags that hung around his neck, she pressed her nose right up against the glass, ignoring the chill as she tried to make out the writing on the tag. Again, it was impossible without her glasses.

She knew, though, who she was looking at. She didn’t need to glimpse at the gross clipboard that hung from the side of the tank to know that she was looking at the _Winter Soldier._

She stumbled back a step, as the realisation sunk in. “Oh my god,” she whispered aloud in English, “He’s real…” She stepped back up to the window and raised a shaking finger to trace the pattern of his face through the glass.

This man was supposed to be a myth. He’d always featured in her bedtimes stories as a child; her mother had said if she didn’t go to sleep then _Soldat_   would come for her.

A dark chuckle made her snap her gaze over to Sasha, who was now smiling at her, his scar stretched across his face, serving to sinister. His golden teeth glinted in the dim lighting, and he leaned in close to her, looking at her with a wicked gleam in his dark eyes.

“ _He is very real, Lebedev, and he is your assignment.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Let me know ^_^


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